


A gentle man and a gentle mate

by laminated_newspaper



Category: Discworld - Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, just a little fluffy thing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-27
Updated: 2019-05-10
Packaged: 2019-11-05 09:28:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17916212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laminated_newspaper/pseuds/laminated_newspaper
Summary: On the left wrist of Samuel Vimes reads "Ah, good man, do you know anything about mating?"and on the right wrist of Lady Sybil Ramkin reads "Um, he can't?"





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I appear from the side of the stage in a floor length sparkling dress. My hair is slicked back exquisitely and I've got beautiful makeup on. I stop in front of the microphone and after adjusting it to my height I lean in close. "Samuel Vimes is bisexual, and it's true because I said so."

There was three things Samuel Vimes knew about love at age 5.  
1\. His mommy loved him  
2\. His daddy loved him  
3\. His soulmate loved him

His mother loved him, he knew that for a fact. She would tell him stories and mend his clothes and kiss his skinned knees when he fell and the other kids laughed at him. She worked so Sam could have food on the table and a roof over his head. His mother said his father loved him, but Sam had never seen his father. He didn’t want to press the subject because talking about his father made his mother get all watery and sad and he didn’t like it.  
When Sam was born he had his soulmark, his mom said that it meant that his soulmate was older than him. Somewhere out there, his true love was already running around and being themself. His soulmark was fuzzy and half illegible, his mother said that it would become clearer in time. Most people Sam knew had soulmates, a few didn’t, a few had more than one. Jeremy Fleming used to make fun of Sam for only having one when Jeremy had three. Sam thought it was unfair, but he also thought a lot of things were unfair. His mommy having to work all the time and still be hungry wasn’t fair. His daddy not being around ever because he had other things to do wasn’t fair. Not knowing who his soulmate was was also unfair.  
He knew his soulmate loved him, but he wished he could talk to them. He wanted to talk about their favorite type of game to play with bricks was, what their favorite color was, which festival day did they like best? His mother said that they would love him with all of their heart, and Sam was so excited to meet them. 

\----- 

There were three things that Samuel Vimes knew about love by the age of 18.  
1\. It could be purchased for any price, but it got better the more money you payed  
2\. Love was a gamble, he couldn’t trust anyone anyone bad with his heart. (He wasn’t quite sure quite yet how to figure out who was a bad person to give his heart to but he figured that he would know when he met them)  
3\. Every person had a soul-mate, and his was daft, at least he was pretty sure they were.

Written (Now legibly) on the inside of his left wrist was the inscription “My good man, do you know anything about mating?” In loopy and delicate script, a bold contradiction in both appearance and content. The handwriting of someone who put lots of effort into writing, and a sentence rather crude for a first introduction. Sam’s mother said it had to be a lady, with a script like that, and Sam agreed with her. He liked both boys and girls alright, had tried many things with the both of them by the time he turned 18, but he always had the feeling that his soul mate was a woman. She would be attractive, hopefully, and probably someone a lot like him. She would probably be poor like him, though hopefully not too poor. They would get married, live together in a one bedroom house, have six kids, and live paycheck to paycheck like everyone else he knew. That was the most romantic thing he could think of. He had always wondered in what sort of situation would he meet his soulmate. Maybe she was a seamstress? Maybe just a woman looking for a one night stand? Many more possibilities came to mind, but all left him blushing and introspective. 

Sargent Keel asked him about his mark one night while out on patrol, more like the man told him to keep it hidden. “Don’t go waving it around like a bloody idiot Constable. Keep is covered with a sleeve, or bit of fabric or something.” As he tried to light a cigarette without it getting wet from the rain. “It’s bloody indecency, flaunting it like that. A soulmate isn’t a thing that all people still have in a city like this, and if some of the right bastards out on the street see you with one of those they’d soon as cut it off your skin as look at you.” Vimes winced at the idea, and used an old handkerchief to tie around his wrist, similar to the little one that Keel kept around his wrist.  
“Have you got a soul mate Sarge? We’ve all seen you wear that tie ‘round your wrist, only no one’s seen what’s under it.” Inquired Vimes a little warily. They were on patrol, with the rain beating down around like a bunch of thugs. Along with the smell of sewage and Keels’ cigarette smoke, the streets were not the nicest place to smell.  
Keels sighed. “Back where I come from, they would call a question like that, a ‘cruising for a bruising’ sort of question.”  
“So what does that mean, a yes sir?”  
Keel sighed again, even louder, as if trying to turn his exasperated sigh into a whole sentence. They both walked in silence for a bit longer, right foot in front of left, left in front of right. Keel took a drag from his cigarette, “Yeah, I’ve got one.” Keel didn’t have to explain, Sam knew what he was talking about. “We got married a few years back.”  
“What’re they like?” Vimes pushed “Colon ‘s met his mate apparently. They got hitched a few weeks ago. Colon says that she’s very nice.”  
Keel shook his head “I wonder if he’s home often enough to say the lady ‘s very nice.” He puffed as if he already knew about the situation better than Vimes. “My Sybil is a good woman. She’s bigger than a boulder and twice as sturdy.”  
“I wouldn’t want to date a lady who’s bigger than me.” Said Vimes with all the certainty of a teenage boy talking about women he didn’t find attractive.  
“Well then that’s going to narrow down your options.” Responded Keel, not looking down.  
“What’s that supposed to mean?!”  
“Well constable, you’re certainly not the tallest fella is the watch I’ll tell you that.”  
“You’re not tall either sarge, you’re barely taller than me!”  
Keel stared at him “Yes, and I’m not an idiot who judges women by their height.”  
That shut up Vimes for a good twenty minutes. It took him a good load of courage and a few more streets to try and talk again.  
“Is your soulmate alright with your job? You should bring her by the station some time. None of the others have met her yet, and we’d all love to.”  
Keel didn’t respond.  
“You know Mum would definitely love to have the both of you over to our place. She told me that any woman who marries a copper is a foolish one, but what does my mum know? The both of you should come over to our house for dinner!”  
If Vimes had been more attentive he would have noticed that Keel was trying to ignore him. However, he was about attentive as a pigeon in all matters that aren’t bread, and took the silence as an invitation to keep pressing the subject.  
“Is she still in Psuedopolis sir? Did she not come with you to the city?” and after a tense pause “Is she… um…. Is she? Is she, you know?” she stuttered without wanting to ask it.  
Keel stopped abruptly, leaving Vimes a few paces ahead. He grabbed the boy roughly by the collar of his shirt and pulled him close, Vimes flinched. “Listen kid.” Their faces were inches apart, and Vimes could smell the acrid smell of cigarette smoke. “She. Is. Not. Dead. You never ask anyone about the state of their soulmate, you got it?” Keel’s voice was steady, but underneath was the promise of a good punch to the gut.  
Vimes nodded jerkily and furiously. “Yes sir! Sorry sir! Won’t happen again, sir!”  
“Good.” sighed Keel, backing up. “Now constable, let’s forget this conversation ever happened.”  
“Yes sir.” responded Vimes, and the pair started walking again. Right foot in front of left, left foot in front of right, the coppers’ walk.

 

\-----

 

“I’m calling it now boys, his soulmate is definitely dead.” announced corporal Colon as he looked up from the doodle he was drawing on his desk. (It looked roughly like a cat, if the cat had been attacked by a troll and pieced back together by an apprentice Igor) “No man gets that touchy about that kinda stuff unless he’s lost someone.”  
Vimes had just told the rest of the guards about his and Keel’s conversation, they were all giving their two-cents opinions. Most of the watch was shifting in and out of the main office, hesitant to sit down for fear that Keel could barge in and lecture them all on morality. Vimes and Colon where the only ones sitting, one because he was too stupid to be afraid, and the other because he was too lazy to get up.  
“Why would he lie about that?” Asked Vimes.  
“You’ll understand when you’re older kid.” replied Snouty from the other side of the room, pretending to file nonexistent paperwork. “It’s not a thing people want to bring up.”  
“A soulmate is a horrible thing to lose.” explained Colon, leaning in Vimes’ direction “You’re excited to meet your gal one day, right?” Vimes nodded “Well imagine that one day, your words, the first words from your love to you, just turn grey, and fade into a scar.” Everyone in the room (there were more of them as the conversation progressed) made a sympathetic wince. “It would be even worse if you already knew the gal, and knew that as the words fade, you’ll never see her again.”  
“They could turn red though.” interjected Nancyball “I knew a lass who’s wife got run over by a wagon, but the stubborn gal came back as a zombie. Her words faded, but they came back red.”  
“Well that’s gross.” responded Colon. (It was unclear if he was talking about the nature of the two women’s relationship, or the fact that one was undead)  
“I don’t think she’s dead though.” said Vimes. He wasn’t sure why he said it, but he was positive somewhere deep down that the soulmate of Sergeant at Arms John Keel was alive. It was a weird thing to be assured of, but he knew it.  
“You’re a bloody romantic, that’s why you think so.” snarked Wiglet . The other officers in the room (becoming more comfortable) laughed in unison.  
“Am not!” shouted Vimes, rising from his chair.  
“Are too!” responded Wiglet, as though he was starting an argument with a kid. (which he sort of was)  
“Am not!” yelled Vimes, even louder “I believe that his soulmate isn’t dead! I believe in the power of love, and I’m a cold, hard realist!”  
“If you’re a cold, hard, realist, then I’m the Patrician.” responded Sargeant Keel from his nonchalant slouch in the back doorway. All of the officers jumped and then pretended to be doing something that wasn’t gossiping. “I hope that you all weren’t wasting valuable time by gossiping about the love lives of your superior officers.” boomed Keel “That would certainly be a waste of time and resources, and wasting is not something that I approve of.” the officers all frantically bustled about as he talked, either trying to leave the room or make it look like they were not wasting time and resources.  
Vimes blushed and tried to face the desk he was sitting in, but since he had been sitting the wrong way around in the chair so that he could rest his arms on the back (much like people trying to be cool do) he twisted the chair and fell flat on the floor, bringing the chair along with him with a loud crash.  
“Seriously lance constable?” muttered Keel “If you’re going to gossip like an granny, then at least have the nerve of one.” He helped up Vimes from the floor with a steady grasp on his arm.  
“Sorry sir.” muttered Vimes.  
“I take it you haven’t met your special soulmate yet.” said Keel with a wry smile.  
“No sir.” muttered Vimes. Despite himself he blushed and hung his head.  
“It will all work out Constable, I remember how I was at your age.” Keel made a short and bright sound, that had it not been Keel, Vimes would have thought was a laugh. (It’s not that he didn’t think Keel could laugh, Keel surely had to have laughed at least once in his life. Right?) Vimes received a hard clap on the back, and the Sargent walked off in the direction of the stairs to the second floor.  
“I think I just saw my life flash before my eyes.” muttered Vimes once Keel was out of earshot .  
“Hell, I saw your life flash before my eyes.” responded Wiglet “I thought he was gonna box ya for sure.”  
“Was that a laugh?” asked Colon, who had gone back to drawing the abomination cat.  
“I think so.” Vimes stared at the stairs, and then looked down at his own wrist, wrapped in red fabric. He tightened his fist and smiled.

 

\------

 

At the age of 25, Samuel Vimes knew three things about love  
1\. It could be purchased at any price, but if he could purchase it, that meant that other people with a whole load of strange diseases could also purchase it  
2\. It got a lot better when alcohol was involved  
3\. His soulmate was probably a lot cooler, hotter, and better at thud than he was 

 

He been on a five game losing streak and halfway through the sixth when Lance Constable Sitz proposed they could do something else if he wanted. “Look, Sam, there’s no need to keep playing if I keep beating you. I feel bad.”  
“That’s Sergeant Vimes to you Sitz, and I’m not losing, this is all part of my tactics for when you slip up and fail.” Vimes had his helmet off and was scratching his stubble in thought.  
Sitz sighed “We’re not technically on duty right now Sargeant so you can pull the truncheon out of your arse.”  
“Bold of you to assume I’ve got one up there in the first place Filip.” Vimes moved a dwarf three spaces ahead.  
“I thought we weren’t using first names Sargeant.” Sitz smiled his blinding grin, and let out a little giggle (a very manly one of course, he was a watchman).  
“Oh alright, alright.” Vimes conceded “We’re not on duty you can use my first name.”  
Sitz’s response was a little smile and nod while he took another sip of his beer. The two of them were sitting outside the watch house on a makeshift table and chairs constructed of overturned buckets and sheets of metal. The thud game wasn’t really complete, the board was missing two dwarves and a troll (Nobby’s fault most likely), but those pieces had been substituted with little bits of carved scrap wood that constable Warren had made. They had technically just finished duty, but neither had particularly exciting homes to go to and were just killing time before they would eventually have to sleep. Vimes liked Sitz because the man was tall, could knock out a person in one punch sometimes, and was probably the smartest man in the watch (in his opinion). Sitz liked Vimes because he spoke his mind, cared for the city like a mother cared for her unruly child, and was probably the smartest man in the watch (in his opinion). Both were drinking cheap beer from a brewery down the road, and both were enjoying the early morning fog.  
“So Sam, what do you think about that new Ventinari guy who people are talking about who’s thinking of becoming Patrician?” Sitz took another sip from his beer and motioned Vimes to make his next move.  
“Dunno,” Vimes shrugged “heard the latest rumors and sorts but nothing out of the ordinary.” he pretended to look like he knew what he was doing and moved a dwarf ahead seven spaces.  
“Do you think he’s really going to do that whole thing with the guilds that he’s claiming he’ll do?”  
Vimes waved his hand dismissively “Naw, he’d have to be a madman, no one’s gonna stand for legal crime.”  
Sitz shrugged and took another drink. It wasn’t that the beer tasted good, it was that there was a lot of free beer, considering the brewery was smuggling contraband magical items into the city and paid for the watch’s silence in free beer.  
“What rumors did you hear?” Sitz moved a troll to the left one space.  
“Oh, the usual stuff,” Vimes shrugged and moved another dwarf. “He’s married to a vampire princess from Uberwald, he’s not actually human, he’s got no soulmate, he’s actually a spy from Quirm sent to destroy us all.”  
“Oh, the vampire one is actually false.” declared Stiz. Vimes quirked an eyebrow from behind his bottle and Stiz continued. “I know a guy whose girlfriend has got a cousin who knows a guy who lives in Uberwald and who works for the so called ‘vampire princess’ as a gardener and it turns out she’s very much not into men.”  
Vimes chuckled “Okay, so what about the other ones mister ‘know a guy.”  
Sitz gasped in mock offensive “I don’t know what that name could have meant Sam, but I’ll continue giving you the real truth.”  
“You wouldn’t know a real truth if it bit you on the arse.”  
“Rude! Insulting a fellow watch officer, I’m offended.” Sitz moved his troll forward a space and took one of Vimes’ dwarves. “Now I also know that the soulmate one is also false because I heard that he’s got one on his neck, real big and uses a name, that’s why he’s always covered in head to toe with that grey fabric.”  
Vimes nodded “Would make sense to hide it if he’s wanting to be the Patrician. Wouldn’t want an assassin finding the person and gutting them in the street on account of them being linked to a rival of his.”  
Sitz nodded as well “I wouldn’t put it past Snapcase to put a hit out on someone’s soulmate like that, man ‘ll do anything to stay in power.”  
The pair moved a few pieces in silence. Vimes took one troll, and Sitz took seven dwarves. A stray dog passed by and tried to sit next to the pair, Vimes shooed it away. A golem lumbered past carrying a huge stack of wood, neither paid it any attention. Eventually bottles were finished and Sitz went back inside the office to get more. Vimes barely managed to resist the urge to move the thud pieces so it would look like he was winning.  
“Okay I’ve got four more of the so called beers,” called Sitz “we seem to be going through these guys like a house fire.”  
Vimes laughed. (He didn’t consider himself a full blown drunk quite yet and so drinking was a casual and fun thing). They both settled back and continued with the game.  
“So,” Vimes ventured after losing another three dwarves “Have you got a soulmate or two Filip?”  
“No actually.” Stiz said, while moving one of his trolls “Used to have one when I was young, it disappeared around my ninth birthday. I remember the original thing said something like ‘That’s a mighty fine truncheon ye got there.’ so I can only assume we’d of met sometime while I was in the watch.”  
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear about it.” responded Vimes with a sympathetic wince.  
Stiz shook his head “No no, I’m not upset about it at all. I don’t really think about it all that much. I mean, I miss the assurance that I’d find someone is all, but I’m not worried about dying alone, there’s lots of other folks missing or without a mark.”  
“Okay then.” Vimes moved one of his dwarves, and shrugged in what he hoped was a noncommittal way.  
“Have you got one?” Sitz asked, partly just to fill the silence.  
“Uh yeah,” Vimes took a swig of beer “the mark asks me if I want to have sex.”  
“Cool, at least they’re forward.” Sitz took Vimes’ second to last dwarf, much to the victim’s surprise.  
“How did you do that?” Vimes said, hiding his disbelief by taking another drink.  
“You rush in too much, you leave your sides open and it’s easy to get you when you’re too focused on winning to actually win.”  
“That doesn’t make any sense.” snapped Vimes as he attempted an evasive maneuver with his last remaining dwarf.  
Sitz shrugged “Maybe that’s why you keep losing.”  
It took four more moves for Sitz to capture the last dwarf, and a whole two hours for Vimes to get over the fact that Sitz hadn’t cheated, and even then he hadn’t been totally convinced. Vimes had only really gotten over it because Sitz had pulled him in for a sloppy and inexperienced kiss to shut up his complaining, and Vimes wasn’t one to pass over a good request for silence by kissing. 

\-----

They’d got along in a close way after that night. In stolen kisses during patrols and quick fumbles behind buildings (not on duty though, Vimes was too proper for that). Sitz was kind and silly and told Vimes that he was very pretty as often as he could.  
For a while Samuel Vimes didn’t worry about the future, he didn’t worry about how good he was at being a perfect soulmate. Sitz snuck into rich people’s yards to pick Vimes beautiful flowers, and Vimes saved up money and bought him a fancy blue silk scarf from across seas. Sam wore the flowers behind his ears and in his lapels, and Filip tied the blue scarf around his neck on special occasions. For little bits of time they could become Filip and Sam instead of Sitz and Vimes, and that’s all that really mattered to the both of them.  
It had changed when Ventinari had become Patrician however. Governments changed, streets changed, people changed (only sometimes for the better). Many other young men besides Vimes and Sitz had been asked if they wanted to join the palace guard, but both both felt as though this was an opportunity for the both of them to get a better life.  
Sitz had been accepted, with his silly little mustache he’d been growing to look more adult, sunny smiles, and steady hands. He’d been accepted easily, he fit right into the marble walls and glit facades like he’d always been meant to stand in a place and protect people from harm.  
Vimes however had been banished within the first week. That was just his luck, he just couldn’t keep his mouth shut, he just had to argue with captain Putnam on the proper treatment of apprehended prisoners. He just had to respond to insults from officer Quirk with wisecracks of his own (that were probably better insults anyway, not that it counted or anything).  
Sam and Filip couldn’t sustain themselves after that of course. Sitz had a job to worry about and Vimes had a dwindling night watch to take care of. They’re really hadn’t been a harsh breakup, there was just a slow and painful stretch like melted cheese that lost itself to a thin connection.  
Vimes still saw Sitz sometimes of course. They passed each other in the halls of the castle when Vimes had to report to the Patrician for something or other. It was probably better, Sitz had always said that Vimes had a bright future that didn't involve him. It was probably the other way around.

\-----

At the age of 35, Samuel Vimes knew three things about love  
1\. The best kind happened to other people, everyone else had to hope and pray it wasn’t a limited recourse  
2\. The “real” kind of love didn’t exist. Some might say that it was a ridiculous thing to say in a world where most humans and humanoids had the first words of their soulmate emblazoned in magic black ink (or other colors depending on the tone of skin) on their body, but Vimes stood by his statement  
3\. His soulmate would be ashamed to meet him, if he didn’t die of alcohol poisoning first that is

He was regaling this important observations to Nobby from the bottom of a gutter when it started to lightly rain. Nobby, who had been respectfully listening occasionally nodding along to the parts he agreed in, looked up at the sky and grumbled “Of course it always rains when we’re doing the rounds.”  
“My soulmate would be appalled to meet me Nobbs. She would swoon in her shoes if she found out her good man was this drunken bugger.” Vimes gestured with his almost empty bottle of cheap beer, narrowly missing his fellow officer’s head.  
“How do you know they’re a woman cap’? I just saw you flirtin' up Mr. Nunes not twenty minutes ago at the bar.”  
Vimes sat up straight very fast, and then proceeded to wobble as he addressed Nobby “I know what I’m talkin’ about you... undergrown troglodyte. Just because I’m snoggin’ men doesn’t mean I’m their mate.”  
“I don’t need to know about anythin’ like that Captain. Don’t need to know anythin’ about the mating habits of my friends.” moaned Colon from his resting place about two paces away in another gutter.  
“That’s not what I meant!” shouted Vimes “I meant that I’m matin’ ‘em, not matin’ ‘em!” which received a few shushing sounds from windows above from people who also didn’t want to know about the mating habits of the Night Watch.  
“I don’t quite know what you meant by that sir.” sighed Nobby as he reached out a hand in the effort to help Vimes up.  
Vimes burped and didn’t notice the hand, instead taking another swig of his beer “You’ll get it when you’re older, give it a few years.”  
“Sir, you know I’m a man, same as you, right?”  
“Oh sorry Nobby, forgot. You’re a good copper Nobbs”  
“It’s alright sir, thank you sir.” sighed Nobby and he pulled Vimes up to a vaguely standing position (if one could count being propped up against the side of a building standing)  
Colon got up a bit easier, considering he was not the drunkest out of the trio (in least to most order; Nobbs, Colon, Vimes) And gripping each other the three began to slowly wobble back to the watch house. 

“What was I talking about again before all of you’s distracted me?” mused Vimes, scratching his head.  
“I think it was your soulmate sir.” supplied Nobby at the same time that Colon supplied “about how yer gonna give us all a raise?”  
“Ah yes, the poor old bugger!” exclaimed the captain, ignoring the second comment. “That poor woman ‘s gonna be in for a nasty shock when she’s been lookin’ for a good man her whole life and sees this marinated specimen.” He gestured once again with the beer bottle, this time to himself.  
“What do you mean a good man, sir?”  
The capitan stopped walking, almost upsetting the delicate balance of the whole trio. He clumsily pulled at the knotted fabric wrapped around his left wrist. After a few seconds of fumbling exposed the untanned skin and soul mark with a flourish. “See right here? Calls me a good man she does, only I’m not a good man, and it’s gonna be a shock for her.” Nobby took a studious look, and Colon stared up at the gently raining sky, as if considering his place in the universe.  
“Aw sir, don’t be harsh, you’ve got plenty of positive attributes.” chided Nobby, making a desperate attempt to salvage the conversation before someone started crying.  
“Name one Nobbs.”  
“Well,” floundered the corporal “You’re quite dashing sir.”  
“More like dashing away from a fight!” countered Colon.  
“You’ve got good,” a long pause “um, good,” another pause and a wobble as the trio started shuffling again “you’ve got good personable skills!”  
“I’ve got about as much personable skills as a goat Nobby, don’t you pull that with me.” Vimes made an attempt to drink more from his bottle, and instead splashed its contents all over his and Colon’s face (Nobby was short enough to miss the splash). Some wobbling and sputtering ensued and two out of the three dealt with the attack of cheap beer that was barely good to drink by itself let alone to get in one’s eyes.

 

\-----

 

“I really should just die before I meet her is what I should do.” lamented Vimes, once the whole trio had successfully (more or less) gotten back to the watchhouse. They had all sprawled out on the floor of the main room, in a sad, stinky, drunken, dogpile.  
“Nonsense nonsense.” muttered Colon  
“Plenty of sense.” countered Vimes (in what he believed to be a sufficient come back)  
“We would miss you though Cap’n.” muttered Nobby, slapping his hand about on the floor in an effort to find one of Vimes’ own. When he found one of the captain's sweaty hands Nobby gave it a soft squeeze. “We would miss you.”  
“That’s my hand.” muttered Colon.  
“Bugger.” and Nobby put his hand on top of Vimes’ head and ruffled his hair a bit. (In a way that only friends can because if anyone else ruffled your hair you’d destroy them)  
“Thanks Nobbs.” sighed Vimes. “I’m just sad is all. Thinkin’ ‘bout a perfectly good woman whose only fault is being connected to me.”  
“Now now,” chided Colon “That’s no way to think about it.” he summoned up the sobriety he’d be feeling in about six hours or so “Being a soulmate means she’s lovin’ you too! No person is perfect! You’ve got faults and she’s probably got ‘em too!”  
“Yeah!” added Nobbs “I’ve got a soulmate out there and they’ve probably got loads of problems just like me!”  
The two other men sat in shock for a few seconds. “You’ve got a soulmate Nobby?” asked Vimes.  
“How come we’d never seen the mark?” Colon added.  
“It’s on me arse.” supplied Nobby “Plus it’s not in any language I can read. I’ve tried to take it to a linguist, only no one ‘ll decode it because they won’t let me show them my arse.”  
There was a quiet and tense silence as two men considered a being who would be romantically interested in Corporal Nobbs. They then nodded in solemn solidarity at the unnamed linguists who missed a metaphorical crossbow bolt (which is a metaphor for Nobby’s butt).  
“Mine ‘s on me leg!” supplied Colon, kicking his right leg up into the air, narrowly missing Vimes’ head. “It says ‘Watch where you’re going you brute, you almost made me drop this here basket of lemons!”  
“We all know.” replied the two other men in unison.  
“You met Mrs. Colon when she was out selling fruit and you weren’t lookin’ where you was going and you almost knocked over her lemon basket.” continued Vimes. (Sadly the discworld does not have any expressions about life giving people lemons, because if it had, then that would have been a quite funny joke). “You’ve told the story a hundred times.”  
Nobby grunted in approval.  
“On that note, I’m gonna grab a glass of coffee.” sighed Colon as he rose like an ancient landmass. “Do any of you boys want something to drink?” he wandered in the direction of the machine that occasionally chose to make coffee (and we use coffee as a loose description for the liquid that commonly emerged) .  
“Don’t want to drink nothing that’s not fermented!” Vimes punched a fist in the air.  
“Yeah!” Nobby seconded with a fist pump as well. Colon shook his head and smiled as he made half hearted attempts to resuscitate the coffee machine.  
“Don’t wanna worry about my soulmate, and what she’s a’doing, and what she’s being!” continued Vimes, now sitting up.  
“Yeah!” Nobby remained on the ground.  
“Don’t want to care about anything but booze and being sad!” Vimes shakily stood up.  
Nobby scratched his head “Ah, I’m not gonna yeah to that.”  
“I’m not gonna care about anything.” repeated Vimes, in a more somber voice. “I’m just going to survive, I’m not gonna care.”  
Nobby and Colon stared in mute discomfort (the kind of discomfort of someone who’s a friend to someone who’s suffering).  
“You alright Cap’n?” Nobby sat up just a little bit.  
There was a very quiet silence, for the city of course. There was a dog barked in the distance and another that responded. A wagon rattled by on the street, and the sounds of someone getting mugged three streets over. The rain didn’t make any attempt to be quieter for the sake of the thematic silence.  
Vimes sighed “I’m fine, I’m fine.” he shook out his body like someone who wanted to be free of a thought. “Going back out on duty, okay? You men stay here.” He grabbed his helmet and shambled towards the door.  
“You sure you don’t want some company?” called Nobby.  
“It’s raining nails and screws out there.” added Colon as if to discourage any exercise.  
“I just need to think is all, I’ll be back.” called Vimes as he pushed open the doors and secured his helmet on his head.  
It was raining, but Vimes didn’t really care. He wasn’t going to care about rain or cold or soulmates or sadness. From then on the focus would be survival and probably more alcohol.


	2. Chapter 2

There were three things that Samuel Vimes knew about love at age 42  
1\. Sure you could buy love, but did you really want to? It cost money and didn’t really help anything in the desire for intimacy department  
2\. Soulmates did exist, but in a way that the concept of winning the lottery existed, in the way that it happened to everybody except him  
3\. His soulmate had most definitely gotten married or moved on with their life without him. Probably wasn’t even interested in meeting him ever.

The day Vimes met his soulmate he hadn’t eaten breakfast. There had been the whole carrot barfight, drunken lark through the Shades, and potential dragon spotting, he hadn’t slept let alone eaten breakfast. He probably would have could have and should have done so if he knew that it would be the day they’d meet. Then again, if he had known he would meet her then there would have also been a 40% he would just run out of the city and never come back.  
Scoone Avenue was a place that the Night Watch didn’t patrol for fear of being accused of loitering, so Vimes didn’t really know the place well. It wasn’t hard to navigate though, most rich neighborhoods weren’t. They had lots of lights that framed wide streets and didn’t wind into grubby alleyways. Houses that were neatly numbered and groomed stood close, as if they were silently clustering together and judging him as he walked by.  
The Ramkin estate was nice, in a way that most of the buildings around it were. It was big, had some statues of naked women, some statues of not naked men, and some reasonably sized hedges about the lawn. A feral cat ran and hid in a bush as he approached, and he nodded in approval, no house was complete without a cast of feral animals that could hang in, about, and around.  
Vimes never understood what rich folks did with so many rooms in their house. One person need only have a room to bathe, a room to sleep, and maybe if you wanted to go wild, the room where you cooked could be seperate from the room you slept in. That definitely didn’t explain the seventeen extra rooms that every single mansion seemed to contain that had no discernable purpose. Vimes’ apartment had exactly two and a half rooms (one bed, one bath, and a closet that technically was considered a kitchen) and that was just fine for him, when he actually went home to it.  
The first thing he found odd was that when he knocked, no one answered the door, Houses of this size usually had a rotating ansamble of staff who could be counted on to open the door for a copper and manage to insult them in seven different ways using only five words.  
He had been quite prepared to give up then and there had it not been for the case he was investigating, dragons, in Ankh-Morpork, a preposterous occurrence. Lady Ramkin would know about dragons of course, talking to her would help with the investigation. He cautiously decided to take his chances with looking for her and perhaps dying of a miscommunication and a trigger happy butler then stand on the doorstep like an oaf.  
The robust rhododendron bushes (perhaps trees at that point) make a valiant effort to keep him from progressing without a few cuts and scrapes, but were also just plants and so were cut down by his trusty sword. The weeds grew strong around the side of the house, he wondered why Lady Ramkin didn’t have a gardener to clean all of them up.  
The second thing he found strange was the shed in the backyard. If Vimes had had his wits about him then, he would have thought that the backyard shed looked like an excellent place to do sordid things inside. The kind of place that would be found to have skeletons or a whole bunch of leather inside. However, he was tired, and hungover, and hungry, so all he noted was that the shed seemed rather well inforced. Lots of thick bolts on the door, and reinforced windows with metal bars over them.  
The knock at the shed door produced a lot more reaction than the front door had, namely a whole lot of howling and screeching from inside as well as a human shout of surprise. He was a little confused by that, but didn’t have enough time to react before the door was thrown open, and he met her.

“My good man, do you know anything about mating?”

The words boomed forth from the imposing figure in the doorway, thick cloth and metal armor covered every bit (more than a bit) of their body made them look rather frightening. Vimes had barely any time to exhale in surprise before the figure yanked him indoors and shut the door behind them. “It’s Lord Mount Joy Gay Scale Talonthrust the third of Anhk.” They were leaning in very close to his face, the glass of their face shield reflecting a ghastly fisheyed image of himself (did he really look that awful?). Their hand still clutched his arm in a vice like grip, making sparks fly in the (long neglected) furnace of his heart. “You know I really don’t think he can cut the mustard.” they continued, shaking their head.  
“He can’t?” Vimes sputtered, in a back place of his mind he registered that those words were probably written on their body as well, he wondered where. Moving back slightly, mostly out of surprise and claustrophobia, his back hit the door. Gods, why were they so close?  
They didn’t let Vimes escape however, moving forward as he moved back. “Could you oblige?” They boomed, slightly muffled by the mask.  
Vimes tried to think. Ramkin, dragons, lords, sex, soulmate, questioning and “What?” was all that he could manage to blurt out.  
“Oh, don’t be squeamish man, you just have to help him up into the air! It’s me who has the tricky part!”  
Vimes had no idea what they were saying. What kind of mating happened in the air? Was this something only the rich did? Where was Lady Ramkin and who was this person he was talking to? He had not been expecting this for his first meeting with the pre-destined love of his life.  
They continued, leaving no room for response “I know it’s cruel, but if he can’t manage it for tonight, then he’s for the choppy chop. Survival of the fittest and all that.”  
The night watch segment of Vimes’ head kicked in at that moment. “Madam I am an officer of the Watch and I must warn you that the course of actions you are suggesting breaks the laws of this city,” he really hoped he wouldn’t have to arrest his soulmate on their first meeting (first impressions were important when Vimes was pretty sure that most impressions he left were either with puddles in the streets or on bar counters) “and I must advise you that his lordship should be released unharmed immediately.” that had hopefully sounded good enough for government work.  
“Why?” there was a sinking silence while his soulmate stared and Vimes’ guts traveled through to his feet. “It’s my bloody dragon.”

**************

Sybil Ramkin was her name. His soulmate was was Sybil Ramkin. She stood in front of him with her face shield resting on the top of her head and the most beautiful face he had ever seen. Vimes thought it rather sappy that he had thought that, but damn it all she was very pretty, in a goddess sort of way.  
“I can’t believe you capitan. I would never,” she paused and let out half a laugh “with a dragon! That’s so vulgar!”  
“I didn’t know it was a dragon.” Vimes repeated for the third time “You said lord and I assumed it was a human.”  
Sybil’s smile was beautiful, no sense to beat around the bush, she lit up the room like a flamethrower, hot and bright. “They have to get names like that you silly man. It’s for classifying them in dragon shows and the like.”  
Vimes nodded dumbly in response. He wanted to start doing something, anything, he had to do something that wasn’t standing in the middle of the dragon shed, clutching the plaster cast like a blushing schoolboy. He closed his eyes and took a breath to gather his thoughts, he lined them up in his head like little kittens or ducks or shots at the bar: He needed to ask about Lady Sybil about dragons, he needed to ask Lady Sybil if she she had a corresponding soulmark to his, he needed to get at least two stiff drinks, he needed to solve the dragon case.  
“Do you want cake Captain Vimes?”  
Vimes snapped out of his mental world “What’d you say?”  
Lady Sybil was rummaging around in one of the reinforced cabinets behind them. With a flourish she pulled out a foil wrapped package with two oven mitts. “I used dragon fire to bake it, it should be done by now. Would you like some?” the thing she unwrapped didn’t really look like cake, but Vimes wasn’t in the mood to say no to some actual food, dragon cooked or not.  
“Yes ma’am.” he stopped “please.” figuring it was probably better to be polite to a lady.  
Sybil broke the cake into two crumbly halves, and passed the larger half to him. That was a nice detail he noticed, she gave him the larger half. “Wilikins taught me how to mix the batter, so whenever he goes on breaks, I can try and make the cakes myself.” she frowned down at the cake in her hands “The cooks think it’s dangerous to use open dragon flame to cook things, but what do they know?”  
“Less than you?”  
“Exactly my good man!” Sybil exclaimed. “I’ve worked with dragons my whole life!” She smiled again, and Vimes felt compelled to smile as well. Sybil took off her face shield with her other arm and placed it on a already cluttered table. “Let’s go sit somewhere that’s not in direct line of fire from any of these little darlings.”  
“Darlings? Line of fire?” Vimes repeated as he followed Sybil along a corridor of dragon pens.  
“Quite literally I’m afraid.” she laughed and addressed the dragon pens at large “You boys and girls have issues with not getting excited when Mum visits the pens with nice men along! don’t you?” as if on queue, a few dragons let up jets of flame. She stopped short and turned around to face Vimes, almost causing him to bump into her (and because he was almost eye level with certain aspects of her, he would have fainted should that have happened) “Some of them get a little jealous when attractive men like you come in, the territorial little buggers! Isn’t that silly of them?”  
“Um, yeah.” was the best response Vimes could find. He tried to wrack his brain for a time that a someone called him attractive and wasn’t being paid to do it.  
By the time he looked up from his thoughts, Lady Ramkin was already standing on the other side of the shed, holding a door open. He quickly speed walked down the hall, and managed to avoid sporadic jets of flame that erupted.  
“Oh, you did better than most folk do.” Sybil said as Vimes passed through the door “Usually someone gets burned. Those silly things must really like you.”  
She fell back into a little chair with a force that worried Vimes for a few moments until he noted that the chair was made from metal, and although had intricate latticework, also looked fairly sturdy.  
A little swamp dragon waddled up to her as she got comfortable in the chair. She crooned at it as it approached and let out a pitiful gurgle. “Never fear Vinny dear, you can sit on my shoulder.” she hoisted it up like a cat and placed the thing on her right shoulder, scratching at its chin before pausing to look at Vimes.  
“Do sit down my good fellow, make yourself comfortable!” she waved to the three other chairs around the table. Vimes chose to tentatively sit down in the seat across from her.  
“So, lady Ramkin.” Vimes knew he had to ask her about the case at hand, but something about lady Ramkin made him want to know more about her. He really just wanted to ask things like her favorite color, what she did in her spare time, and was she married yet? “How long have you been breeding dragons?”  
Her face lit up, “Oh, it’s been years since I got my first dragon!” she pressed a hand to her bosom and breathed in, as if recalling a load of fond memories. “Dewdrop Mariella talonscale moonbeam the first, I received in year ten, a gift from an old teacher of mine. I was such a silly girl then, I certainly loved her, but wasn’t interested in having more than one swamp dragon. Until that is,” and she leaned over onto the table as if imparting a secret (Vimes made sure to look at her face and not her bosom) “a stray dragon wandered into the yard, I tried to shoo him out before he started a scuffle with anyone, and the poor sob exploded into a million pieces and lit my hair on fire.” she made eye contact with Vimes “I was enamored, simply enamored.”  
“Oh.” was all Vimes could respond with “Sounds a bit of a bad thing to have a dragon explode all over you and to have your hair catch fire.”  
Lady Ramkin laughed “Oh I suppose.” she batted her hand, hitting Vimes’ shoulder with more force than he expected “But as I was sitting there in the backyard, guts and the sort all over me, stunned from the blast, with the servants rushing to put my hair out. I just thought ‘what a strange creature? One who’s only about the size of a housecat, yet has enough explosive power and fiery will, that it’s willing to explode itself in the hopes it takes out the threat.’ How could you not love something so small and explosive?” So after that I started adopting strays and breeding them professionally and the like.”  
Sybil gesticulated more often the longer they talked, waving her arms about to simulate explosions. She had almost looked as though she was becoming a bit more comfortable, and not just being friendly for politeness sake. “It was like meeting a soulmate. This silly and ridiculous idea came hurtling at me, and I knew just then I’d devote my whole heart to the soppy fellows,” her shoulders wilted a bit as she looked off into the distance “that is, I’d devote my whole heart until I found someone I could share my heart with, but it’s not as though anyone like that has come along.”  
Vimes’ brain short circuited (he wouldn’t have described it as that of course, he’d never seen an electrical circuit, much less watch it short) Lady Ramkin didn’t know they were soulmates. She must have not heard his first words, he tried to wrack his soggy brain to try and remember what his first words had been. His first thoughts had been “please don’t kill me, you large humanoid” but he doubted that’s what he had said. How was he going to break it to her? He wouldn’t, shouldn’t break it to her, it’d only be embarrassing for the both of them, more likely for her to be involved with him.  
He looked up from his internal struggle to see the lady’s motions slow to a stop, she crossed her hands very primly in her lap and looked apologetically toward Vimes.“I hope you don’t me getting a little off track, I don’t mean to be rambling or such like that.” she eked out a brittle and self deprecating smile. “I have been told that I get carried away when it comes to dragons and it gets rather annoying.”  
In a horrible flash of imagination Vimes could see a younger version of lady Ramkin, nervous and unsure of herself, being told to be quiet, being told she was annoying for talking about her interests. He felt the abstract and seething rage of someone who wants to fight anyone who has ever made their friend feel out of place. “It’s no trouble at all lady Ramkin, I thought it was very interesting.” It was the least he could do.  
“Oh really?” she said “You really think so Captain Vimes?” her smile this time was more genuine.  
“Yes Ma’am.” he responded.  
“Oh!” she clapped her hands together “Then come inside with me, I’ll get you the good cake and we can talk about dragons some more!” She rose in a blur and grabbed his arm from across the table. Vimes jumped a bit, but she seemed not to notice. Her hand had a grip like a dragon. “Come along Captain, I like you so much already!” and what choice did Vimes have but to follow her.

************

A day later, when the dragon flew at Vimes, he leapt off of the roof.  
When he leapt off the room he hit the roof of the outdoor privy.  
When he hit the roof of the outdoor privy he blacked out.  
When he blacked out, Captain Samuel Vimes dreamed of the future (he didn’t know it was that though)

In his dream, Vimes was sitting in a wooden chair somewhere in the Patrician’s garden. The greenhouse part, he recalled, with bright flowers jammed in between the date palm trees. (hundreds of years prior, Old King Giffard II had built the gardens as a gift to his Klatchian-born wife and filled it with her favorite fair weather plants) Seeing the any part of the palace grounds, indoor or outdoor, automatically sparked his caveman brain’s fight or flight responses. He clutched the arms of his seat and glanced wildly around. Vimes first knew it was a dream of course because to his right, Vetinari was sitting in a chair with one of the ugliest hats he’d ever seen. Some glittering golden top hat monstrosity that twinkled like a star indoors. The strangest thing of all however, was that Vetinari smiling at him like an old friend.  
“I trust you didn’t doze off your lordship? You know they say justice in the city of Ankh-Morpok never sleeps.” Vetinari quipped with a chuckle.  
Vimes figured his best bet was to mumble a vague agreement and try to look like he knew what he was doing and what he was agreeing to. He didn’t like talking to Vetinari, dream or not.  
“You’ll be disheartened to learn that while justice definitely did not sleep, is wife and child went off to walk with Mr. Von Lipwig, and are now probably learning some wildly inaccurate information regarding bumble bees.”  
“What?” Vimes said dumbly.  
“Though young Sam now seems to be asking questions, let us see if the golden man can withstand the onslaught.” Vetinari pointed off into the middle distance.  
Vimes followed the Patrician’s finger, and was greeted by a strange sight.  
Two adults and one child were crouched by a plant with wide leaves and red flowers that Vimes could see from this distance was swarming with bees. They were about ten meters away, but in a dreamlike quality, Vimes could see all three of them clearly.  
The first man made Vimes realize who exactly would have the kind of personality it would take to wear the ugly hat that was presiding on Ventinari’s lap. His whole suit was the same bawdy golden fabric, he glowed like a goddamn beacon. The copper in Vimes’ mind reasoned he was probably some posh bastard, someone Vimes didn’t recognize or trust. His face was simultaneously the most nondescript but also most punchable thing Vimes could ever recall himself seeing. The whole man looked like he was gesticulating enough for a least five people as he looked to be explaining something.  
Crouching next him was Lady Ramkin, a bit older than Vimes had last seen her. Her hair was wrapped in a scarf, letting flyaway strands poke out from odd angles. She was wearing a worn blue dress that Vimes had begun assume was similar to the hundreds of others in her closet. The light from the golden man’s suit played off of her skin, and Vimes was stuck by how beautiful and comfortable she looked. As he focused on her, she was supporting a little boy from the back, and intently listening, in a maternal sort of way, to whatever the kid was saying.  
The kid couldn’t have been older than five or six, Vimes always had trouble telling ages with kids. One of the boy’s arms was looped over lady Ramkin’s shoulder, and the other tentatively clutched a hand to his mouth as he bit on a fingernail. He was adorable. The child’s dark curly hair was pulled away from his face with a little white ribbon that matched the grass-stained clothes he wore. Vimes wondered what sort of ridiculous person would dress their kid in white clothing, weren’t kids were supposed to attract dirt? he knew that he certainly had as a kid despite his mother’s best efforts.  
Lady Ramkin let out an explosive laugh at something the little kid had said. The golden man followed suit. Lady Ramkin was beautiful when she laughed, Vimes had to admit. She and the little boy laughed similarly, with a crinkle of the eyes and the way their shoulders bunched up. The golden bastard’s laugh was ugly, that’s all that Vimes cared to note.  
“I wonder what’s so funny.” mused Vetinari.  
Vimes shrugged “No idea.”  
The trio stood up and with with a few words between them, the little boy rushed back to Vimes and Ventinari.  
Colliding with Vimes’ knees at full force the kid shouted “Up, up.” before beginning the process of climbing into Vimes’ lap anyway. It took a simple hand on his part for the kid to get situated, it was obvious that the kid was an unstoppable force of energy. A smile was now directed at Vimes. It felt awkward to have someone look at him like he hung the moon, Vimes tried to smile back at the little boy.  
“Do you want to hear what your son just told us?” Lady Ramkin called as she approached, she was still laughing just a bit. As she stood next to Vimes she bent down and gave the crown of his head a soft kiss.  
“My son?” Vimes sputtered. The little boy on his lap was obviously too cute to be part of the Vimes family.  
“Well he’s surely your son dear.” she shook her head in exasperation “Sammy dear, do you want to tell papa what you told me and Mr. Lipwig when he told you about how bee colonies work?”  
The boy recited “I said all the little bees shouldn’t have to work for the queen. All the worker bees should rise up and kill the queen on account of her bossing them around for no good reason.” and stuck up his chin for good measure.  
Vimes found himself laughing. What was this place? How was he in the royal palace, hearing jokes about regicide told to him by his son, right in front of Patrician? What a strange and frightening dream this was.  
The ‘Mr. Lipwig’ laughed and placed his hands on his hips and cocked his head to one side (in the way only bastards do) “Lord Vetinari calls me here, and instead of talking about future bank operations I get to converse with the Duke and Duchess of Anhk-Morpok, and meet the city’s next new regicide.” He chattered. Vimes got the feeling the man did a lot of chattering.  
Vetinari responded with something about the Vimes-Ramkin being good family to aspire for, but Vimes couldn’t focus. The boy, Sam, was poking at his chin. “Papa, what’s a reggy-sides?” he whispered.  
Vimes looked down, “It’s someone who kills a monarch kiddo.” he whispered back.  
“That’s not good. I’m not gonna kill anyone.” responded the boy with a solemn shake of his head “Mum said that if I try to be good and kind, then I’ll grow up to be just like you.”  
“Good to know.” Vimes mumbled.  
The spindly fingers of the waking world began to pull at Vimes’ consciousness, coaxing him away from this dream palace. He didn’t want to go though, he didn’t want to leave this beautiful sunny day. He could stand to be without the Patrician and that golden bastard, but this little boy, lady Ramkin, he didn’t want to leave them. The little boy clutched Vimes’ hand in the absent-minded way that a child clings to someone they love.  
Vimes’ heart melted with love, and then he woke up.

******** 

Vimes hoped he looked a lot less stupid than he felt, standing in the middle of Lady Ramkin’s dragon shed, clutching two dragons to his chest like loaves of fire breathing bread and wearing nothing but a nightshirt and underthings, not including the pair of fuzzy pink slippers currently on his feet.  
“Mighty brave thing for you to do capitan, saving me and the dragons like that.” Lady Sybil was still clutching the shovel she’d attempted to smack people with not minutes before. She probably didn’t need a shovel to knock someone out, Vimes mused, if she ever took up fisticuffs, Lady Ramkin had more than enough mass to properly pulverize someone.  
“Nonsense Madam. It’s my duty as a member of the Watch to protect the citizens.” the smile he gave her probably looked like shit, but since he looked like shit most of the time, it probably wasn’t a notable thing. “I’m only bumbling about and doing the bare minimum of actual help.”  
Lord Mountjoy Quickfang Winterforth IIII made attempts to wriggle out of Vimes’ arms and into his owner’s. The watchman maneuvered his arm until the dragon could climb along it and into Lady Ramkin’s open arms. Scratching at the little creature’s chin she murmured quiet thanks before looking down at Vimes.  
“It’s not nonsense Capitan.” she asserted, drawing up her posture and placing the dragon on her shoulder “You’re a good man, and you deserve to be told as such.”  
Did she know who she was talking to? Vimes doubted it. He felt himself wilt under her intense stare. “Now madam-” he tried to counter.  
“Don’t you madam me capitan,” she wagged her finger while arguing, like a scolding mother “It’s not right someone so brave as you should be talking down about yourself like that! Letting yourself overcome so many challenges alone.” letting out a frustrated sigh, she turned away from him and drove the shovel she was holding into a bin of coal. Not turning around, Lady Ramkin put her hands on her hips, and shook her head.  
Vimes relaxed a bit when she stopped staring at him, but jumped again as she whirled around again and began to shout again “I see how you cover that arm of yours! I take it that you don’t have anyone to be able to trust in.” she took a breath “ I’ve known people who will refuse to talk to anybody but their soulmates, but that’s not healthy or right. don’t know if your soulmate is dead or gone or evil of somesuch, but you don’t have to be cosmically connected to a person to form a bond with them.”  
“Now wait one mo-” Vimes tried to say.  
Lady Ramkin interrupted “You don’t think it’s possible, but it is! Willikins lost his mate when he was very very young, he’s not shy to admit it, but we can still count on each other for support. Havelock can never tell his mate anything for fear the poor man could be put in harm's way, but he can lean on me in times of personal crisis. I still haven’t met my soulmate, but I surround myself with dragons and friends.” she pressed a hand to her bosom “Don’t be afraid to lean on people and let them help you.” her face was just a bit flushed a pink from either blushing or yelling, Vimes wasn’t sure.  
“Madam, I am a perfectly capable and well adjusted adult.” he sputtered, trying to rally himself as the dragon he was still holding wriggled against him. “I have the Night Watch.”  
She deflated, “You do, don’t you.” a sigh “I’m sorry for assuming things capitan.” running her fingers through her short hair, she ruefully smiled.  
“No no no, you can assume all you want! I mean, it’d be nice to be your friend if that’s what you were offering.”  
“Really?”  
“Yes, I mean.” he scratched the back of his neck “someone might have to protect you and your dragons.” he felt so stupid talking to her, at least more stupid than he usually felt.  
Lady Ramkin threw her head back and laughed, half nervously, half genuine. “Of course, you silly man!” she slammed a hand into his back encouragingly, almost knocking him over. “Now let’s go get dressed and prepare for tonight!”  
Vimes staggered from the smack “What’s going on tonight?”  
“In this city?” lady Ramkin responded “Everything that’s possible will happen.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm splitting the "second" chapter into two parts because it's ended up being a lot longer than I expected!  
> Sorry it took me so long to update! I've been a tad swamped with school and the like, but I'm trying!


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